


Islands in the Stream

by SteelyM



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Karaoke, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-10-07 21:42:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17373797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteelyM/pseuds/SteelyM
Summary: Emma Swan is a no nonsense bail bondsperson on a stakeout at a karaoke lounge called "A Smile and a Song."  Lonely and closed off, Emma is irritated by all the raw emotions the club's customers display through their songs.  But she can't help being intrigued by the charming British bartender with the gorgeous voice...





	1. Somebody to Love

From the outside, A Smile and a Song Karaoke Lounge didn't look like much.

It was a square, one story concrete building on Mystic Avenue in Medford, MA, just a few miles north of Boston. Its only decoration was across the top, where a big sign displayed red plastic illuminated letters spelling out the too-cute name of the establishment. 

It had its own parking lot out front, separated by chain link fencing from a Dunkin' Donuts on one side and an AutoZone car parts store on the other.

Although the setting was nondescript, even a little depressing, this particular "karaoke lounge" was rumored to be a favorite hangout of one Randy Marx, who had skipped out on a $10,000 bond posted by bail bondsperson Emma Swan, at the request of Randy's mother Angela, for a non refundable fee of 10% (and with Angela's wedding ring and 2008 Jeep Cherokee as collateral on the rest.)  

Randy, as it happened, loved armed robbery and assault _almost_ as much as he loved pretending to be Billy Joel.

Randy hadn't been seen at his last known address in months, but his mother and a former "colleague" in the two-bit criminal operation of which he was a part thought he might not be able to resist visiting his favorite club, even while in hiding.

That was why Emma sat in her yellow Volkswagen Beetle in A Song and a Smile's parking lot, looking at the building with dismay. She liked her job. The money was decent for someone without a college degree, and she had a lot of freedom. Plus, she dug chasing down lowlifes who had screwed over their families or friends by skipping bail.

But sometimes she had to hang out in some really shitty places. A karaoke bar in freakin' Medford? Emma's life had been pretty sad so far, but from the outside, this place seemed like a real bummer, even to her.

She sighed and got out of the car, adjusting her red leather jacket and smoothing down her black dress. It was simple and sleeveless, and she'd paired it with knee high black boots. She felt way overdressed to be standing in a parking lot next to AutoZone. She should have studied Google Maps a little more closely.

Her long blonde hair hung in soft waves down her back, and she fluffed it before opening the double doors. She knew she looked hot. That was kind of the idea when she was trying to bring in a straight, male skip such as Marx.

She had a mental picture of the guy, including his approximate height and weight. She would spot him, flirt a little to get him comfortable, then spring her trap and bring him in.

Readying herself for battle, she squared her shoulders and headed inside.

To her surprise, the inside of the club was kind of cool. The decor looked like it had been updated in recent years. The light fixtures hanging low on long cords from the high ceiling were tasteful and stylish. The deep maroon and grey-hued drapes and upholstery gave the place a vibe that was elegant and comfortable at the same time.

The lounge was comprised of three levels that were like concentric squares focused around a small stage on the lowest level. The main entrance was on the top level, and Emma noticed that to her left there was a coat check, a hallway leading to restrooms, and a row of small tables set behind a railing but with a view of the stage. To her right, there was a long bar that took up a wall of the club. There were also a few small tables in front of it.

The middle level was all tables, a mixture of round two-seaters, many of which had been pushed together to accommodate larger groups, and a few cozy booths set behind them.

At the bottom, next to the stage, was a black cloth-draped table that held a very elaborate looking karaoke system manned by a young man that looked like he was barely even old enough to drink.

At the moment, this young DJ seemed to be fighting not to roll his eyes at the occupant of the stage, a slightly pudgy, twenty-something man in a white shirt and loose necktie who was belting out an ode to his beloved West Virginia.

 

_Country roads_

_Take me home_

_To the place, I belooooooonnnnnng..._

 

Emma _did_ roll her eyes. The guy sounded so emo, she thought he might break down blubbering right there on stage.

Apparently homesickness was a bitch. Emma wouldn't know, though, having never had a real home.

She completed her scan of the place without spotting Marx, so she decided to head to the bar to wait for him.

She settled onto a middle stool that gave her a good view of the whole place when she turned, and she hung her jacket and bag on a hook underneath the bar.

"May I get you a drink, love?"

Emma started at the voice.

That was _some_ voice. Masculine and low and with a British accent.

She looked up quickly only to meet the piercing blue eyes of the most handsome man she had ever seen in real life.

Shit, did she really just think that?

"Um," she replied dumbly.

"I can give you a minute with the cocktail list if you'd like," Handsome English Bartender replied politely, clearly used to the effect he had on women.

"No, that's okay," Emma said, gathering herself. "Bacardi and Diet Coke, please."

"Excellent choice," he replied.

Half turning away from her and barely glancing at the shelves behind him, he grabbed the correct bottle of rum and started to make her drink.

While he worked, her eyes drifted to his left wrist. She was surprised to see that it ended with a rounded metal hook instead of a hand. She stared at it for a moment and wondered how he could tend a busy bar with his disability.

"Your suspicions are well founded, love, but as it happens, I am _not_ the slowest bartender in all of Boston," he said.

Her eyes darted back up to his face and she felt her cheeks redden with shame.

His eyes held no malice, though. They were mostly full of good humor, with just a tinge of embarrassment.

"I didn't mean to—" she began lamely.

"It's no problem. Don't you want to know who _is_ the slowest bartender in all of Boston?" he asked cheerfully.

"Sure," she said, smiling in spite of herself.

"There's an old bloke at this Irish pub in Dorchester who is niney-seven. Still works six nights a week. Can you imagine?"

"I can't imagine," she replied. Her smile had decided to stick around, so she tried to hide it by reaching down into her bag to pull out a credit card. She handed it to him so that she could start a tab.

"Ah. Cheers, love," he replied as he took the card and swiped it into the POS system on the back wall of the bar.

Emma took a sip of her drink, which he'd made perfectly. Just the right amount of lime.

"He is _dreadfully_ slow though," Handsome Bartender continued conversationally, as if he and Emma were old friends. "Thankfully, his customers mostly just order a pint of Guiness or a bottle of Coors Light, so it doesn't really matter."

Emma chuckled.

A man three stools down from Emma ordered an IPA. Handsome Bartender moved away to grab the bottle of beer, which he held between his left arm and his side while effortlessly popping the top with an opener. Then he returned to her and picked up their conversation.

"Things can get a bit more interesting here, but I handle it." He set his elbow on the bar and leaned into her space a bit as he said the last part. And he accentuated the "t" on "it" in a way that was not at all sexy (or so she told herself.)

"I'll bet you do." She heard the words come out of her mouth and mentally gave herself a forehead slap. Why the hell was she flirting? She didn't flirt! Unless she was working. Which she was supposed to be. Just not on him.

He cocked an eyebrow at her charmingly. She felt her cheeks go pink again, but thankfully, he was called away to serve another customer.

Free from his intense gaze and buckets of charm, she turned in her stool to look out at the rest of the club. Marx would be here. Her information was good.

While she sat, she noticed that the next singer had taken the stage and was warbling an uneven (at best) take on "Total Eclipse of the Heart." Emma didn't need to turn around to see the emotion on the singer's face. She could hear it in her voice.

Ugh, love.

Suddenly, even more than usual, she wanted to grab her skip quickly and get this overwith.

This place, with all its open emotions on display (okay, and its gorgeous and charming bartender) was throwing her off her game.

She sighed and turned back around to give the place another once over. The club was about two-thirds full, which Emma thought wasn't bad for seven o'clock on a Thursday evening. They seemed to have a decent after work crowd of twenty-somethings, mostly women. There were a few groups of heavily made up middle-aged women (Emma didn't care for the term 'cougars,' but that was the word that popped into her head when she saw them.)

She scanned the crowd slowly while she sipped her drink, but nobody resembled her skip.

Her bartender seemed to be staying very busy, but during a lull, he came back to offer her another drink. She agreed, and while he prepared it, she used the opportunity to chat with him about club's clientele; what kind of people usually came in.

"Are you thinking of opening a karaoke bar, love?" he asked, his eyebrow cocked. "Should Ruby be worried about some new competition?"

"Ruby?"

He nodded to indicate the leggy brunette who was standing over the shoulder of the DJ, and who Emma had seen flitting back and forth between the stage area and the bar.

"Aye, she's the owner. Well, she and her grandmother own it."

Emma raised her eyebrows questioningly, the picture of an elderly woman owning a karaoke bar was a bit strange.

"It's true. Mrs. Lucas bought the place back in the early 90's, when it was a run down club that used to host local metal bands or some such. She'd read an article about how big karaoke had become in Japan, and she foresaw that it would take off here as well. The place has been a success for twenty-five years now. Ruby's mostly been running it for the last four."

"That's impressive," Emma replied, sipping the fresh drink he placed in front of her. "But I thought the whole karaoke thing had kind of faded...how do you guys keep up the crowd?"

She winced internally after she asked the question, realizing that despite her best efforts, she was intrigued by this place, and this guy.

He looked away to take a tab from a waitress and started to prepare some drinks, but he answered her, sometimes talking over his shoulder as he grabbed beers from the fridges at the back of the bar.

"Well, we have some promotions. Sundays and Wednesdays are very popular drag nights. We call them 'Ruby Slippers' shows. We also have some special performances scattered throughout the week; regular singers who people make a point to come watch. Bust mostly, it's just the vibe. It's friendly, and caring. People are free to be who they are and lay all their emotions bare through song."

"Yuck," Emma replied before she could stop herself.

He chuckled.

"You're not one for emotions, Miss—?"

Shit. She'd kind of insulted his workplace, and here he was still being nice and asking for her name, even though he probably saw it on her Visa card.

"Emma," she said.

"Ah, lovely. Nice to meet you, Emma," he replied, putting his bar cloth down and lifting his hand to shake hers. "Killian Jones," he added as she took his hand.

As soon as they touched, she felt warmth spread throughout her body. His hand was large and soft, and he was looking at her like she was the only other person in the club. The intensity of the obvious spark between them had thrown her off kilter. That _never_ happened; she was the cool and impassive one in most interactions.

And that son of a bitch was smirking the whole time. She clearly amused him, and it was starting to get on her nerves.

She pulled her hand away, and Killian gave her a "be back in a moment" nod as he moved down to the corner of the bar. Ruby had come to speak with him.

Emma turned back to look out at the club, once again scanning fruitlessly for Marx.

"That's a bit early," she overheard Killian say to his boss.

She surreptitiously looked to her right to watch the exchange between Killian and Ruby. She couldn't make out the rest of their words. Ruby shrugged and said something, and then Killian laughed. They seemed close, and Emma wondered whether they were sleeping together.

Dammit, no. She did not wonder that (she told herself.) She did not care.

The bar started to get busy, and Killian didn't come over to chat again. Emma still hoped Marx would show, so she nursed her drink slowly and forced herself to stay and scan the crowd.

Some of the performances were rough, but the crowd was kind, applauding and cheering each one. Ruby often took a moment to pat the singers on the back and offer a few words of praise after they left the stage.

Emma checked her phone. It was only nine-thirty, but she was tired and starting to get the feeling that her skip was sitting out karaoke tonight. She absently wondered whether he was secretly a drag queen and if she should try Sunday or Wednesday.

The current 'performance' was a group of six young women, Emma put them at about age twenty-three, in fashionable but disheleved business casual attire. They were huddled around two microphones screeching out some pop song about never ever getting back together. Was that Taylor Swift? Emma didn't really know current popular music.

She did know, however, that this was bad.

And she wasn't the only one who thought so. She noticed that Ruby was standing by the stage, a fake smile plastered on her face. Ruby looked at her watch and said something to the DJ running the machine. Then, to Emma's surprise, she looked up towards the bar, straight at Killian, and raised her eyebrows as if to say, "Okay, it's time."

Emma turned back to Killian, who nodded in Ruby's direction, then cheekily threw Emma a wink before heading to the end of the bar and coming out from behind it. He took a few long strides down the low steps towards the stage just as the girls were stumbling back to their seats.

To Emma's surprise, Ruby stepped on stage and grabbed a mic.

"Thank you, ladies. That was really hot!" Ruby said with admirable sincerity. "And, speaking of hot, please welcome one of our very favorite singers here at A Smile and a Song. Our very own Killian Jones!"

Emma flinched at the size of the cheer that went up from the mostly female crowd. Apparently, this was a thing.

The applause quieted and the club became silent. People were clearly antcipating this guy. Unconsciously, Emma leaned forward on her barstool in the direction of the stage.

The DJ started the song, and Killian stood at the front of the stage looking down at his feet. The familiar chorus of Queen''s "Somebody to Love" started from the speakers, and then Killian took over.

 

_Each morning I get up I die a little_

_Can barely stand on my feet_

_Take a look in the mirror and cry_

_Lord, what are you doing to me?_

 

His voice was gorgeous. It was higher than his speaking voice. Slightly breathier than Freddie Mercury's, and not as powerful, but it was strong and clear and melodic.

 

_Somebody (somebody), ooh Somebody (somebody)_

_Can anybody find me somebody to love?_

 

He was nailing every note, but more than that, he _owned_ the small stage. He didn't prance or preen theatrically, but he took a couple strides to either side, looking intently at each audience member as if he was delivering his plea right to them. He had real presence.

When he reached the chorus a second time, he held the note on "love" almost as long as Freddie had, and the word seemed to be suffused with true pain and longing.

Emma got chills.

She managed to tear her eyes away from him for just moment to look around at the crowd. Everyone was grinning and pumping their fists. Some were clapping along. The song was upbeat, but the pace and the melody masked the tragedy in the lyrics.

She looked back at Killian and wondered why he'd chosen this particular song.

When he came to the line "he's got nobody left to believe in," the agony in his voice struck Emma. It did something unfamiliar to her heart.

She'd always related to that line, too.

During the guitar solo, Killian played to the crowd by perfoming some air guitar with his hook. Emma couldn't help but laugh out loud.

He had the room enraptured the entire time, and he got them clapping and singing along to "find me somebody to love. " Then he finished the song, still holding the notes impressively and delivering them with raw emotion.

When he was done, the place erupted in applause, whistles, and "woo hoos." Killian lowered his head a bit towards the stage and gave a wave that was disarmingly humble in spite of the utterly confident performance he had just given.

Before the applause had faded, he hopped off stage and started heading back towards the bar, right in Emma's direction. He looked straight at her, and she realized too late that she was still clapping her hands together so vigorously that they were going to be red and painful afterwards.

Shit. She was a fangirl.

His face broke out into that smirk, and she felt her cheeks redden once again. Abruptly, she stopped clapping and tried to ignore him as he went back behind the bar. He was busy again right away, but he winked once when he caught her looking at him.

After that, she decided it was time to go. She flagged down Killian to ask for her check and her credit card.

"So, what did you think of one of this place's favorite regulars?" he asked her as he placed the slip and her credit card in front of her.

She busied herself by signing the check (leaving a generous tip; she'd done her time in food service too) and not meeting his eyes. The cocky bastard knew exactly what she thought of his performance since he'd caught her clapping like a teenager.

"It was good," she said, feigning nonchalance. "I've always liked that song," she added, finally looking up to meet his eyes.

Just then, Ruby appeared next to her and leaned in to whisper something to Killian, who nodded. Then her eyes flitted to Emma, and she seemed to realize that Emma and Killian had been chatting.

"Hello there," Ruby said with saucy charm. "I'm Ruby, the owner. Are you having a good time at A Smile and a Song?"

"Um, hi," Emma replied. "It's a great place, really fun," she said, and she knew it sounded hollow. She was tired, and all this personal attention from the club's staff was not good for  _her own_ delicate business endeavor.

"Ruby, this is Emma," Killian chimed in. "She got stood up tonight."

"I did not!" Emma scoffed indignantly at him. "My friend cancelled when I was already almost here, so I decided to come anyway," she clarified after turning back to Ruby. She had a number of cover stories at the ready for when people noticed her sitting at a bar alone all evening. This one wasn't her best.

"Well, did Killian tell you about our rule?" Ruby asked teasingly.

Emma really wanted to get out of there, but she played along.

"What rule?" she sighed.

Killian answered for her, "You can come to A Song and a Smile _once_ just to watch, but next time, you have to get up and sing."

"Uh uh. I don't sing," Emma replied firmly.

"Sure you do!" Ruby said. "Everyone can sing a little. Plus, you're smoking hot. That makes up for a lot of missed notes, trust me."

She heard Killian chuckle and turned to see him nodding in agreement.

Emma winced at where this was going. These two were charming and pushy, and Emma was pretty sure they were going to remember her the next time she came back. And she had to come back if she wanted her skip and the money from his bond.

Shit.

After she left, she tried with all her might not to think about the warm, inviting karaoke lounge and all the raw emotions on display within.

But as she drove back to her apartment in Charlestown, she couldn't stop wondering why the handsome and charming blue-eyed bartender had sounded so _sincerely lonely_ while he sang his song.

He'd sounded almost as lonely as she had been her whole life.

 


	2. Different Drum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emma returns to A Smile and a Song karaoke bar and finds that she's still on the hook to sing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for checking out this story! It's coming along quickly, so I'll post two chapters this week. Cheers!

Emma returned to A Smile and a Song on Saturday, this time with backup. Tinkerbell 'Tink' Wilson was one of the youngest detectives in the Boston Police Department, having overcome every prejudice people held against her because of her femaleness, her (admittedly adorable) looks, her small stature, and the name that had been given to her by her parents, who were hippies back in Tink's native New Zealand.

Emma had met her when Tink was still a patrol officer. The young woman often would be on duty when Emma brought in a skip for processing, and they immediately bonded over being women in the male-dominated field of law enforcement. Over the years, they helped each other out, keeping each other updated on cases and calling each other with a tip if either got wind of the location of a suspect or skip.

They were also good friends, or as good as they could be given that both women were a bit emotionally closed off. When they met for lunch or drinks, they mostly talked about work. The personal stuff they shared consisted of Tink deriding her latest rotten boyfriend and Emma snickering at her creative insults.

Tink didn't talk much about her upbringing beyond rolling her eyes about her parents, and that was fine with Emma. She certainly didn't want to depress her friend with a rundown of all her crappy foster families and group homes.

Tonight, Tink was there as another set of eyes looking for Randy Marx. She was also saving Emma from another night alone at the bar, where a certain British bartender was bound to either get suspicious of her motives or just assume she was there to see him.

In planing her return to A Smile and a Song, Emma had considered just asking Ruby and Killian if they knew Marx and if he still came into the club.

This was always a risky play, though. Often, the skips she was tracking had a drug connection or other criminal relationship with the employees of their favorite hangouts. More than once, she'd trusted the wrong bartender or waitress only to have them tip off the guy she was tracking.

She didn't get a shady vibe from Ruby or Killian _at all._ And she really wanted to believe that Ruby's club was successful on its own, not because it was a front for something unsavory. But Emma was a cautious person, and she just wasn't ready to trust Ruby or Killian with her real motive for being in the club.

So she and Tink strode into A Smile and a Song on Saturday evening, pretending to be normal patrons looking to have a good time.

Emma had opted for dark skinny jeans this time (she _had_ felt a little overdressed on Thursday) but she paired them with a sheer black blouse over a black camisole. Tink looked adorable and classy in a black pencil skirt, black boots, and a deep green silky blouse with three-quarter-length ruffled sleeves.

The place was starting to fill up, but they managed to snag a two person table on the middle level. Emma had scanned the bar as they walked in, telling herself she was just looking for Marx. She also told herself that she wasn't at all disappointed when she spotted a young bartender with a crew cut, but not Killian.

As she settled into her seat and looked over the rest of the place, she found that in addition to being disappointed, she was actually a little relieved. Killian was just too damn distracting, and she had a job to do.

She was still scanning the crowd on the opposite side of the club when Tink spoke.

"Oh, wow, is that the bartender you talked to the other night?" she said, an uncharacteristic huskiness to her voice.

"Huh?" Emma said. She looked at Tink, then looked in the direction Tink was looking, down towards the stage. Killian was there standing with Ruby by the DJ's table. He was looking at them and smiling, and he waved when she finally met his eyes.

Emma's cheeks reddened. God dammit, could she not control herself?

"Yep, that's him," she replied, as cooly as she could.

Killian finished his conversation with Ruby and started to head towards their table. Ruby stayed down below, applauding warmly for the guy who had just finished a heartfelt rendition of Elton John's "Your Song. " Ruby shot Emma a wave and then pointedly nodded towards the stage as if to say "soon."

Emma rolled her eyes. She was in for it.

"Hello, Emma," Killian said when he arrived at their table. "So nice of you to return, especially in spite of Ruby's rule," he added, cocking his eyebrow teasingly.

"Yeah, well, I'm just a music lover," Emma replied snarkily. "Um, this is my friend, Tink."

"How do you do, Tink? I'm Killian," he said politely. "Welcome to A Smile and a Song." He reached down to take her small hand and shook it gently.

"Pleasure to meet you," the young detective replied, her eyebrows shooting to the top of her forehead.  She was clearly impressed by his genteel manner.

"Ladies, I believe you are sitting in Zelena's section tonight, so she'll be taking care of your drink orders," Killian told them before leaning down close to Emma's ear and conspiratorially adding, "But, between us, she can be a bit scattered, so if you find you are waiting too long or need anything at all, just pop over to the bar, and Will or I will take care of you."

"Wow, thanks," Tink said.

Emma rolled her eyes. She really didn't want or need this extra attention while she was working.

"Enjoy the evening, Emma, Tink," Killian said as he began to take his leave.

Emma nodded and muttered goodbye and thanks.

"Oh, and Emma," he added, turning back to look at them, "I look forward to hearing from you tonight!"

"Um, what did he mean by that?" Tink asked when he was out of earshot. Then she realized. "Are you _singing_ tonight?" she hissed.

"No," Emma retorted. "Maybe," she added with a wince. "Ruby has this rule that the first time you come here you can just watch, but the second time, you have to participate. I think they're going to hold me to it."

"Excellent," Tink replied. "This night keeps getting better and better!"

They ordered and received beers from a tall redheaded waitress, presumably Zelena, who seemed friendly enough. Then they sat back to continue scanning the crowd while enjoying some not bad karaoke performances. They heard covers of ABBA, Springsteen, Prince, The B-52's and some current songs, only a few of which Emma recognized.

After an hour or so, Emma took a walk by the coat check and restrooms to see if she could find her skip.

On her way back, she lingered near the main entrance and scanned the patrons at the busy bar to her right. Despite the crowd, she could tell that Killian was managing to charm his current customer, a fortyish brunette who was leaning on the bar spilling her cleavage all over it. She threw her head back and laughed hysterically at something Killian said when he handed her her drink.

Killian seemed unfazed by the display as he moved to serve the next customer. But he must have felt Emma's eyes on him, because he looked up and saw her watching. His face broke into a wide grin, and he waved with his hook while continuing to pour a drink with his right hand. She managed to resist rolling her eyes in annoyance as she waved back. Why did this guy seem to like her so much?

When she returned to their table, she found that Ruby had squeezed in another chair and sat down. She was now chatting amicably with Tink.

"Hi, Emma," Ruby said brightly. "So glad you came back, and that your friend could make it this time!"

"Yeah, well, it's a great place," Emma replied, finding that she really did mean it. Karaoke wasn't her thing _at all_ , but she continued to be impressed by Ruby's establishment.

"Any thoughts on your song choice?" Ruby asked Emma. "Will you and Tink be performing a duet?"

"Uh uh, I'm a first-timer. Emma's on her own tonight," Tink replied.

"Thanks, _pal_ ," Emma told her friend. Then, to Ruby she added, "So you're really going to make me do this?"

Ruby smiled warmly and said, "No. I wouldn't make you do anything you're not comfortable with. It's just that, we tend to get a lot of repeat performers in here. New singers, especially pretty ones, are always exciting for the customers. You'd be helping me out." Her smile turned wicked and she added, "Pretty please? I know Killian's dying to hear you."

Emma sighed. This was too much. But, she didn't want to seem uptight. As far as Ruby knew, she had _chosen_ to come to the club. For fun.

"All right," she said finally.

"Yes!" Ruby cried, clapping her hands together. "What are you going to sing?"

Emma had thought about it a little bit, and she had some ideas. She mostly liked older stuff from the 60s and 70s. One of her few good memories from growing up was the short time she'd spent with a foster mom in Minneapolis. Ingrid had _loved_ music, and her favorites had been Aretha, Carole King, and Linda Ronstadt.

Emma smiled slightly at the memory of the two of them washing dishes together while belting out "Natural Woman" along with Aretha as the record played on Ingrid's old turntable.

But, like anything good that ever touched Emma's life, that hadn't lasted.

"So, what's Killian's story?" Tink asked Ruby. "Emma said he performed the other night and was really good."

Emma shot Tink a glare that she hoped conveyed the full depth of her burning hot rage.

"Yeah, he'll go on later. He's amazing!" Ruby replied. Turning to Emma she added, "He's been here about three years. I took a chance hiring him as a bartender, but he'd been going through a rough time and I felt for him. He worked really hard to keep up despite the hand thing, and then when I heard him sing, I knew I'd hit the jackpot."

"So, did you two ever date?" Tink asked.

This time, Emma kicked her friend under the table. Tink ignored her and continued to smile innocently at Ruby.

Ruby sighed, a bit too wistfully for Emma's taste.

"We never dated," she replied. "He's hot as hell, don't get me wrong. But, he had just gone through a really ugly breakup and was in a bad place emotionally when I hired him. Then, by the time he'd gotten his shit together, I had already started dating my girlfriend."

"Oh, is she here?" Emma interjected, happy to shift the focus to Ruby.

"Unfortunately, no. She loves to hang out here on the weekends, but this weekend she had to stay in New York for work. She's a big shot security consultant for this Chinese conglomerate," Ruby told them, the pride sparkling in her eyes.

"Cool!" Tink replied. "But Killian's still single?"

Ruby chuckled. "Yeah. He definitely enjoys the attention from the ladies," she said. "But lately I've been thinking he seems ready for something serious." She looked pointedly at Emma as she said this.

Emma pretended not to notice, but she could feel herself blushing once again.

"Okay, well, I have to go manage," Ruby told them. "Emma, whenever you're ready. The sooner the better! Just go down and tell Henry your song choice, and he'll tee it up for you."

They watched a couple more singers and continued to take turns casing the place for Marx.

At around nine, Ruby took the stage and introduced Killian, earning loud applause from the crowd.

"Maybe I should go take a walk around," Emma said, leaning over to Tink so she could be heard above the clapping.

"No way!” Tink cried "You have to watch your new friend perform!"

Defeated, Emma slumped in her seat.

Killian made his way down to the lower level, nodded to Henry, and took his place on stage.

"Evening, everybody," he said. "I'm going to slow it down a little tonight, hope you don't mind. This is one of my very favorite songs by one of my favorite artists, Mr. Van Morrison. "

He paused a moment. Then he looked in Emma's direction. She thought she saw him bite his lip, as if he were contemplating saying something else.

He seemed to make a decision and continued, "If you'd like, you can pretend I'm singing about the lovely Mystic River that runs along our fair Mystic Avenue here in Medford."

The crowd chuckled.

Killian nodded again at Henry, and the music started.

 

_We were born before the wind_

_Also younger than the sun  
_

_Ere the bonnie boat was won  
_

_As we sailed into the mystic_

 

Once, during a break between verses, Killian closed his eyes and moved his arms strangely. He dropped his right hand, still holding the mic, towards his waist and raised the stump on his left side up towards his shoulder. It was like he was holding an imaginary guitar, but it wasn't the comical air guitar he'd played the other night.

Abruptly, he seemed to realize what he was doing. His eyes popped open; he raised the mic again, and began the next verse.

 

_Hark, now hear the sailors cry_

_Smell the sea and feel the sky_

_Let your soul and your spirit fly_

_Into the mystic_

 

It was beautiful and soulful and a little bit sad. But there was something hopeful in the way he sang the chorus. And in the sweet, shy way he glanced up at Emma as he did.

 

_I wanna rock your gypsy soul_

_Just like way back in the days of old_

_And magnificently will we float_

_Into the mystic_

 

Emma froze when she realized he was looking at her. Tink gently elbowed her. Of course, even Tink would think it was romantic to have a gorgeous man sing words like that in your direction. Anyone would. Emma's brain knew she should be flattered. That her heart should be fluttering.

Instead, her shoulders tightened, and her mouth felt like it was full of cotton. This was too much.

Killian was too much.

There was something about him, at once familiar and exciting, but she couldn't let herself feel it. She'd locked her heart up tight years ago, and it was going to stay that way.

When Killian finished the song, the crowd's reaction was rapturous once more. He offered a sweetly humble "Cheers, everyone" into the mic and then headed back to the bar.

A short time later, when Emma was returning from a trip to the ladies room, Ruby caught her eye and gestured to an imaginary watch. Emma sighed. She had to sing if she wanted to keep her cover, and it was time to get it over with. It wouldn't be that bad. She sang in the shower after all, and she felt like she could carry a tune.

She could sing in front of a couple hundred people. Sure.

She stopped by their table again to take a long pull on her beer and ask Tink to wish her luck. She could feel eyes on her from the direction of the bar and, when she turned, was unsurprised to find Killian watching her. She rolled her eyes, and he gave her a warm smile and a salute.

Emma winced again at his sweet attention. She thought of the way he had looked at her during his song. She remembered Ruby's words about how the guy was ready for a relationship.

Well, Emma Swan didn't do relationships. She'd learned her lesson years ago. They always crashed and burned around her.

She turned and headed to Henry's DJ setup, walking with purpose because she suddenly had the perfect song in mind.

When she told the young man, he offered her an impressed smile and said, "Great song."

Emma nodded thanks, then headed to the stage as he introduced her.

The lights were hot on her dark clothes, and she felt ridiculously, painfully exposed alone on stage. But she was a woman who kept her word, and tonight she actually had something to say.

The song began, and Emma, despite her nerves, managed to come in on time.

 

_You and I travel to the beat of a different drum_

_Oh can't you tell by the way I run_

_Every time you make eyes at me?_

_Wo Oh_

 

_You cry, and moan and say it will work out_

_But honey child, I've got my doubts_

_You can't see the forest for the trees_

 

The acoustics in the club were fantastic, and Emma thought she might sound pretty good. She naturally sang in a higher register than Linda Ronstadt, but she focused on on singing from her diaphragm and giving her voice as much power as she could.

As the song went on, she forgot about all the eyes on her and just lost herself in the music. She was actually having a good time.

 

_And I ain't sayin, you ain't pretty_

_All I'm saying is I'm not ready_

_For any person, place, or thing_

_To try to pull the reins in on me_

 

_So oh, goodbye_

_I'll be leavin' I see no sense_

_For this cryin' and grieven'_

_We'll both live a lot longer_

_If you live without me_

 

The song ended, and Emma had the bizarre sense that the room was completely quiet. She panicked for a split second and wondered if she had sucked that badly.

Then the applause started. It poured down the three levels of the bar and was punctuated with whoops and a few wolf whistles.

Emma felt herself break into a huge grin. She suddenly _really_ understood why people liked this.

She placed the mic down gingerly on the small stool at the side of the stage, gave the crowd an awkward little wave, and started to head back to her seat.

As she neared their table, she was surprised to see Tink looking at her strangely. She hadn't exactly expected a standing ovation from her friend, but the young detective actually looked...disappointed.

"That bad?" Emma quipped as she sat down. Suddenly, she was nervous.

"No!" Tink replied sincerely, patting Emma's arm. "You sounded great! I had no idea you could sing like that! It was just...quite a statement."

"What do you mean?" Emma said. (She knew exactly what Tink meant.) "I love that song," she added defensively.

"Come on, Emma. That guy Killian seems to like you, and you go up and sing a song about how you don't want to date? It was about as subtle as a sledgehammer."

Emma felt sick to her stomach. Had she thought she was being clever? She had chosen that song for a reason. It reflected her feelings on romance and relationships perfectly. And it _was_ a _great_ song.

But, in her arrogant, closed-off, cleverness, did she fail to realize that a real person, Killian, might feel like he'd just been publicly rejected?

She wanted to turn around and see if she could get a glimpse of him at the bar, but she was afraid of what his expression might show. Or would he interpret her looking for him as a sign that she was just making sure he got the message?

She felt even sicker. She'd really messed up.

Tink took pity on her and assured her that it was no big deal; that Killian probably flirted with everyone and had loads of women at his disposal. He'd be fine. (That doesn't help, Emma thought to herself miserably.)

Tink also reminded Emma that they were there to work, anyway.

They agreed to give it another half hour to see if Marx showed. They ordered a round of club sodas and settled their tab with Zelena.

Emma told herself that it didn't bother her that Ruby had never stopped by or looked in her direction for the rest of the night.

On the way out, Emma chanced a glance over at the bar. Killian caught her looking at him and offered her a small smile and a nod. She smiled back, even as her heart clenched at the realization that his eyes looked sad. Their eye contact was brief, as he quickly turned his back on her to take an order.

Emma followed Tink out the door. She felt miserable. Killian was so nice, she thought. Was she a monster?

During the car ride back to the city, Tink was kind enough to carry the conversation while Emma drove. She helped Emma brainstorm about where else she might be able to track down Marx and filled Emma in on some of the latest gossip from her precinct.

After Emma dropped Tink off at her place in Somerville, she was stuck in the car alone with her thoughts. Thoughts that inevitably turned back to Killian and the question of whether he'd genuinely been hurt by her performance.

She parked her car near her building, then made her way upstairs. She checked her emails and messages and got ready for bed.

After an hour of laying awake, still feeling shitty about herself, she decided that this was ridiculous. She barely knew the guy. She hadn't done anything lead him on. She hadn't done anything wrong.

She told herself that it was becoming less and less likely that Marx was going to show up at the club. Maybe it was time to just let it go and put A Smile and a Song behind her.

With that thought, she managed to fall asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope these song references don't seem ancient! Van Morrison's "Into the Mystic" and Linda Ronstadt's version of "Different Drum" are worth checking out if you don't know them.


	3. Duet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Emma and Killian together in this chapter. And Emma is forced to sing a song written after 1970.

Emma focused on other cases for the next few days and was able to put Randy Marx, Killian Jones and A Smile and A Song out of her mind. Sometimes for as many as ten or fifteen minutes at a time.

She never would have thought it possible, but the karaoke lounge, with all its messy emotions on display, had gotten under her skin. She missed it.

And Killian.

She felt in her gut that his cocky charm masked the pain of some deep wounds. Just like her tough standoffishness masked hers, she thought ruefully.

As she worked that week, she'd catch herself wondering what had happened to cause the bad time he'd been going through when Ruby hired him. The loss of his hand was the obvious answer.  Was he a war veteran? It seemed like Ruby would have mentioned that if it were the case. But what else could have caused such a grievous injury, and why had he moved to Boston, presumably from his home in England?

Whenever her thoughts traveled down this path, she tried to push them aside and resign herself to the idea that she would never know. She wasn't going back to a Smile and a Song.

On Tuesday, however, she learned that Randy Marx had other plans for her.

Emma got a call from his mother informing her that a friend of a friend had heard that Randy had been hiding out in Rhode Island for the past week, but that now he was back.

Emma spent Tuesday night staked out in front of Marx's last known address, hoping he would come there first. No luck. The place was dead. No lights, no cars. If he was back in Boston, he wasn't staying here.

Wednesday, she had to make a choice. Was she capable of swallowing her pride and heading back to A Smile and a Song for Ruby Slippers night?

The idea of facing Killian made her queasy, but she hated dealing with the hassle of cashing in the collateral from a skip's family so she could pay the court. The family would get screwed over, and Emma never quite broke even on the sale of collateral.

Her solution was to convince a bail bondsman she knew to spend a few lively hours at the club looking for Marx, and in return, she'd take over his boring stakeout watching a house in Everett for the night.

August Booth was legendary for being up for anything, so he happily accepted.

As it turned out, the night really worked out for Booth. Emma caught his skip. Marx didn't show up at A Smile and a Song, but August seemed to have had a great time. When he met Emma at the police station to process his prisoner, he gleefully crowed to her about all the phone numbers he'd gotten. From women and men.

Emma couldn't help but wonder what she had done to deserve such rotten luck.

On Thursday and Friday, she made a bunch of repeat calls to Marx's contacts, hoping that his reappearance in town would have stirred up some new leads. She came up empty.

Finally, Emma resigned herself to the fact that if she wanted her man, she was going to have to give the club another shot.

Her guilt over publicly rejecting Killian still nagged at her. Tink, good friend that she was, had tried to reassure her that it was no big deal when she and Emma had grabbed lunch together on Friday. Maybe it _wasn't_ a big deal, she thought as she headed home that evening to change. Maybe tonight Killian and Ruby wouldn't even notice that she was there.

Friday night brought a chilly, early April rain. The streets were slick and the visibility poor as Emma drove up to Medford. She sprinted from her car to the entrance of the club, but her hair still ended up damp and windblown.

She tried to look nonchalant as she stood just inside the entrance shaking out her long locks, combing through the tangles as best she could with her fingers. But her stomach was full of butterflies.

She looked out over the main seating area and down towards the stage. The crowd was sparse, which was not surprising given the weather. A middle aged couple, who Emma had seen there before, was doing a passable "I Got You, Babe," but the audience response was tepid. Maybe they'd seen this act one too many times.

Finally, she had the courage to look over at the bar. Only half the stools were occupied. She spotted Will and his tell-tale crewcut first, in the middle of the bar making a drink. She craned her neck a little and found Killian at the far end, looking over a clipboard with papers on it. He had a pen behind his ear. As she watched, he scratched his beard. He looked to be deep in thought as he grabbed for the pen and marked up the papers.

Her heart fluttered. He was so unbelievably handsome. And funny. And talented. And it was obvious that he worked hard, even though he'd been through some shit. And he had been so damn nice to her, only to have her reject him via a fucking song.

She couldn't do this.

She started to turn back towards the exit when she heard, "Oi, Linda Ronstadt! Where you off to?"

Will had spotted her. Shit.

Sheepishly, she made her way over to the bar.

"Emma, right?"

"Yeah, hi," she said, taking a seat on a stool.

She glanced down to the end of the bar. Killian had looked up from his clipboard and was watching her. He smiled and nodded, but before she could respond, he exited from behind the bar and headed towards the other side of the club. In search of Ruby, perhaps.

Will continued to address her, "So are you going to grace us with another performance tonight? 'You Don't Own Me?' perhaps? Or something from the tender catalog of Alanis Morissette?"

She looked back at him, her eyes wide with panic. Had it really been that bad? Did they all think she was bitter and mean?

But, on his face she found a wry smirk without malice.

"Very funny," she replied.

"Aw, it's all right, luv," he said with a wink. "I love a tough lass. So does Killian, as it happens."

She blushed and couldn't come up with a response. Thankfully, Will offered to get her a drink and then busied himself with her order.

When Killian returned, the bar was still slow enough that he had no reason not to greet Emma.

"Hello, Emma. Back to perform again? You've caught the singing bug, haven't you?" he said teasingly, but Emma could feel that he was cooler, more guarded than he had been during their previous encounters.

"I guess I did," she replied, smiling as warmly as she could despite her nerves.

"You're not still put off by all the repugnant feelings on display?"

She studied his face. He was still teasing, but there was a definite darker cast to the look in his eyes. She felt terrible for (probably) being the reason that it was there.

"Well, as it turns out I don't mind feelings. Once in a while," she replied sincerely. She held his gaze, tying to tell him she was sorry without saying the words.

He was perceptive, and he seemed to understand. His smile turned into something warmer and more genuine.

"Well then," he began, reaching down behind the bar and picking up a thick three-ring binder, "here's the full catalog of songs in Henry's magic karaoke box. Have at it!"

He put it down on the bar in front of her, where it made a loud "plunk."

Emma grimaced. She was happy to have been welcomed back and seemingly forgiven, but she hadn't quite gotten her head around the idea of singing tonight.

She sighed as Killian winked at her and got back to work. Emma started to flip through the catalog, occasionally pausing to look around the club for Marx.

Ruby stopped by a short time later. Killian had gotten a free moment, and he was chatting with Emma about some of their favorite songs and artists as Emma flipped through the binder. When Ruby sidled up to the bar, she looked appraisingly between the two of them. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she joined their conversation.

"So, it's pretty dead tonight," Ruby complained. "Are the bar receipts getting any better, Killian?"

Killian shook his head. "I haven't run a tally in a little while, but it feels pretty slow," he admitted.

Ruby turned and looked down at the performers on stage, five thirty-something women from a bachelorette party belting out Katy Perry's "Roar." The crowd watching them was listless. Ruby winced as she looked back at Killian.

"People are going to leave early tonight, especially with this weather. We need to inspire them to stay and keep buying drinks."

Suddenly, her pretty face brightened, and her red lips curved into a wicked grin as she looked back and forth between Emma and Killian.

"Hey, you know what would be really fun?"

"I shudder to think," Killian replied, cocking his eyebrow suspiciously.

"You two should sing a duet!" Ruby practically shouted.

"Ummm," Emma began. She was prepared to sing, but getting up on stage with Killian? He was so good, and so confident. God, she'd be nervous.

But a small voice in her head also suggested that it might be a hell of a lot of fun.

"Ruby," Killian was saying, "Emma may not feel like singing tonight. Let her enjoy her drink." He reached up and scratched the back of his neck.

"Come on, you guys were just going through the song book! You want to sing together, you know you do!" Ruby pleaded.

Emma gathered her courage and spoke, "I will if he will," she said.

Killian was quiet for a beat, and she felt her cheeks redden. Shit, maybe he really didn't want to go on stage with her.

"All, right, I'm in," he said finally.

Emma looked up and found him staring at her, a small smile on his face.

"Did you have something specific in mind, boss?" he asked Ruby.

The three of them flipped through the "Duets" section of the book, discussing possibilities.

Suddenly, Ruby clapped her hands together and said "I have it! How about 'Shallow?'"

"'Shallow?'" Emma said in disbelief.

"Yeah, you know, from that movie? I know you like the oldies but you _must_ have heard that song."

Emma winced. She hadn't seen any recent movies, but she did like that song. In fact, it was her warm up song on her workout playlist, and she'd tried singing it in the shower from time to time.

Ruby read her like a book and said, "You _do_ know it!"

"I do," Emma replied, glancing at Killian for help. "But I am _no_ Lady Gaga."

"Of course you're not," Killian chimed in. "You're much prettier than her."

Emma smiled.

"Well, _you_ sing much better than Bradley Cooper," she told Killian.

"A lukewarm compliment if I ever heard one," he snarked, but his eyes twinkled happily at the praise.

"Okay, this is cute," Ruby interrupted. "But what do you say? This place would go nuts. I promise."

Emma looked up at Killian once more to gauge whether he was really on board with the idea. When she saw his smile, and the hope in his eyes, she decided that she was in.

"Okay, I'll give it a shot," she told them.

Ruby bounced on her heels as Killian came out from behind the bar. She ushered him and Emma towards the steps, urging them to hurry up and go on before more patrons called it a night.

Emma's heart was pounding as they descended. She played the song in her head and wondered how the hell she was going to hit the notes she needed to. When they got to the bottom, Killian told Henry the song title, and they took the stage.

Killian handed Emma one of the mics before briefly greeting the crowd and introducing them. Emma was heartened by the warm cheers as he spoke.

The mood in the club changed. People seemed to be sitting up and paying attention as the song began.

Killian sang first:

 

_Tell me something, girl_

_Are you happy in this modern world?_

_Or do you need more?_

_Is there something else you're searching for?_

_I'm falling..._

 

He looked at Emma as he sang, and somehow it helped to assuage her nerves. She listened to the words and thought about her response, like they were having a dialogue or playing a scene.

It was her turn.

 

_Tell me something, boy_

_Aren't you tired trying to fill that void?_

_Or do you need more?_

_Ain't it hard keeping it so hardcore?_

 

_I'm falling_

 

Killian smiled with something that looked like pride as she sang, and he gave her a little encouraging nod as the song built towards the powerful chorus:

 

_I'm off the deep end, watch as I dive in_

_I'll never meet the ground_

_Crash through the surface, where they can't hurt us_

_We're far from the shallow now_

 

She belted it out as strong as she could, and she felt the raspiness take hold in her throat. She hoped it sounded good.

Killian joined her and they harmonized on the rest of the chorus, and she  _knew_ that sounded good. He seemed to know it too, throwing her a cocky wink as they blended their voices. She relaxed into it and couldn't stop smiling for the rest of the song.

After, the cheers and applause they garnered were beyond impressive given that club was still only half full. Emma felt herself grinning. She bowed slightly before handing her mic to Killian, who gently placed both devices down on the nearby stool.

When he turned back to her, he raised his right arm and hand slightly. Before her brain could process that he was going for a high five, not a hug, she threw her arms around his neck. He froze for an instant before wrapping his arms around her waist.

Once in the embrace, Emma started to freak out, but not before she could notice how good he smelled, or how strong his arms felt around her. Or how he leaned his head in just a little so that his beard briefly grazed her cheek. Her skin tingled as she imagined how that beard might feel brushing against other parts of her flesh. Or how his lips would feel kissing the same spot just after to soothe the burn...

Killian pulled back suddenly but didn't break contact, continuing to hold her hand. Emma clutched his hand in return and tried to direct her thoughts back to the present moment. He turned them toward the crowd and dipped into a slightly theatrical bow, which she copied.

Gentleman that he was, he helped her down from the stage. He released her hand but gently placed his on the small of her back, guiding her to the steps and the aisle that led back to the bar.

She was still smiling, but her nerves had returned. The intimacy of that moment on stage had overwhelmed her. She craved more of it just as much as it terrified her.

Thankfully, she got some time to gather herself. The bar was busier when Killian returned (apparently, their performance had inspired folks to stay and order another round.) He thanked her sincerely for the song before excusing himself.

After Emma had killed some time by halfheartedly casing the the joint for Marx and flipping through her phone while she sipped a club soda, the bar finally slowed down.

Killian was drying glasses near where she sat, but he was quiet. Perhaps he already understood her well enough to know the intimacy between them on stage might have caused her to throw her walls up again.

Emma made a decision. She pointedly put her phone back in her bag and started up the conversation.

"So, when did you discover you could sing?" she asked Killian.

He smiled. He placed the last couple of glasses on a shelf at the back of the bar, then walked over to her and leaned on his elbow.

"Well, my mum used to sing with me when I was little. And my dad would join in sometimes when he was drinking. So I guess there was always music in the house."

"Were you ever, like, in a band?"

"Yeah, some mates and I tried back in grammar school. We were pretty terrible. Although, I did start taking guitar lessons around that time, and I got so I wasn't bad on my own."

"So your parents were supportive of it, you playing music?" she asked, sounding a little wistful to her own ears.

"Well," he replied slowly, reaching up to scratch behind his ear, "at that point, it was just my older brother looking after me. He convinced the old bloke down the hall to give me lessons, and in exchange Liam did a bunch of his chores and odd jobs around his flat."

"Wow," Emma replied. "That's some brother."

"Well, he ended up going into the Navy. Doing chores must have been in his blood."

She wanted to ask what had happened to Killian's parents, but fear took over. She went down what she assumed was a safer path.

"Does he live back in the UK? Has he ever come over to see you perform here?" she asked.

She thought she saw his face fall a little before he was called away to make a couple of drinks.

When he returned, he leaned back on the bar and answered her question.

"Um, Liam does live back in the UK, in Portsmouth. But he hasn't visited. We haven't been on good terms for some time." He, seemingly reflexively, glanced down at his hook as he finished.

Emma's heart sank at the expression that crossed his face. Well, there was one piece of the puzzle that was Killian Jones' hidden sadness: estranged brother.

"I'm sorry," she said dumbly. "That sucks."

"Aye, it does." He brightened and changed the subject. "How about you? Were you the star of your high school's production of 'Camelot?'"

Emma rolled her eyes.

"Hardly," she replied. "I bounced around a lot of different schools when I was growing up. I wasn't a big joiner."

"So what inspired the affinity for singing?"

Emma paused before answering. She encountered moments like this from time to time. Moments where she had to decide whether she was going to share the truth of her background with a new person. There was nothing she hated more than the awkward "I'm sorrys" or pitying looks she usually got in return.

With Killian, however, she only hesitated an instant before deciding to take a leap of faith.

"It was one of my foster moms, actually. Ingrid. The best foster parent I ever had _by far._ I lived with her in Minneapolis back when I was twelve. She loved old music, and she had a great record collection. We'd sing together all the time while doing chores. She was going to get me lessons but..."

She'd been looking down at her drink while she spoke, and she trailed off, realizing she might be oversharing. She chanced a glance up at Killian, and in his eyes found only warmth and gentle understanding. He gave her slight nod of encouragement.

This was okay. She could keep going.

"But she got breast cancer," Emma finished. "It was advanced, I guess, so she had to move back in with her parents in one of the Dakotas, I think. I went back into the system."

"Oh, Emma, that's awful," he replied, still holding her gaze.

"It was," she agreed. And then she started telling him the other thing. The thing she had never told anyone else. "Ingrid wrote to me for a while, and I wrote back. She never really talked about being sick. Just shared funny stories about her parents and her hometown. And she asked a lot about me. But, after a while the letters stopped."

She paused again and took a deep breath. Tears were starting to sting her eyes, but she blinked them back. She glanced around the quiet bar. Will had the customers handled. When she looked back at Killian, she found that she still had his undivided attention.

"Finally, I got a letter from her mom," Emma continued. "Ingrid had died. It took a while for the letter to make its way through different social workers to the group home where I was living. So by that time, I'd missed the funeral, of course. Not that I would have had any way to get there."

Killian looked at her quietly for a moment. He clenched his fist, then gently reached for her hand. She let him take it and give it a squeeze.

"I'm sorry you went through that, Emma."

"Yeah, well. It taught me never to get too attached to any foster parents ever again. Not that any of the ones that came after would have deserved it, honestly."

He frowned.

"And, I kind of quit singing after that," she added. "Bad memories."

"Until now," he said, his lips curving again, this time into the beginnings of a smile.

"Until now," she replied, feeling a smile spread across her own face.

"It's this place. It's magic!" Killian replied, a genuine grin gracing his handsome features. "But don't tell Ruby I said so. She used to say the same thing to me when I first started working here and was all brooding and melancholy."

"Oh yeah?" Emma replied. She felt relaxed once again and was starting to have a good time. Her honesty and Killian's genuine understanding had put them on a level playing field. She felt more comfortable with him than she had with anyone else in ages.

"Aye, I was a nightmare. Heathcliff on his worst day."

She chuckled and asked, "So what happened?"

"Well, after giving me space for a few months, Ruby and Will just started taking the piss out of me all the time. To the point where I was either going to have to cheer up or quit because we were driving each other crazy. For the most part, I had been ignoring or sneering at all the singing as well. But after some time here, I heard some performances that were really, I don't know, real?"

He glanced away from Emma and toward the stage, a little wistfully. Then he looked around to make sure Will still had the bar handled. When his gaze returned to her, she gave him a nod and squeezed his hand, which was still holding hers.

"I found myself being moved by some of the performances. In particular, by people who weren't always great singers, but who clearly had something real to say. And had found the song that helped them say it. There was something very brave about it. And I began to feel like a coward."

"So you sang too."

"So I sang too. And Ruby was finally happy that she hired me," he added with a cocky grin.

"Do you remember what song it was, the first time you sang here?" Emma asked.

He bit his lip. "God, do I even remember?" he said. "I was so miserable, it was probably The Cure or Morrissey or something else dark and tragic."

Emma laughed again. They continued chatting but turned the focus to lighter topics.

When the subject of Emma's occupation came up, she froze. They were having such a good time. She worried that admitting that her unusual profession was the reason she'd been coming into the club might break the mood, so she muttered her usual cover: that she was an insurance adjuster. It was boring enough that people rarely asked follow up questions, and Killian got called away to take an order before he could, anyway.

Emma noticed how late it had gotten. She needed to get home, and Killian had to start closing up the bar.

He offered to walk her to her car, and she accepted. The rain had finally stopped, but the chill remained. They walked through the parking lot in silence, close enough that their arms and shoulders bumped here and there. Emma had the feeling that he wanted to say something, perhaps ask her out. But they reached her car without him having spoken.

"Well, this is quite a vessel you Captain, Swan," he said as he looked over the yellow Bug.

"Yeah, it's pretty much my oldest friend at this point," she joked.

He smiled and said, "Thank you very much for singing with me tonight, Emma. Goodnight, and drive safely." He reached out his hand for her to shake.

Emma's heart began to pound. This was nice. She could just shake his hand and leave it like this. Maybe they would be friends. Maybe she'd come back in again when business was slow, and they'd share more of their sad stories.

Suddenly, "maybe" didn't feel like enough. She took another leap.

"Hey, do you want to have dinner with me some time?" she blurted out.

He lowered his hand, which she'd never taken. A grin spread slowly across his face.

"I would be delighted to have dinner with you, Emma."

"Great!" she replied. She glanced behind him at the club. "Um, are there any nights you don't work?"

Killian furrowed his brow. "I have Wednesday off," he replied. Hesitantly, he added "But, tomorrow, we have three bartenders working. I can probably get away around ten. You could come into the club first, and then we could have a late supper somewhere close by. There's a nice Italian place that keeps the kitchen open late on Saturday..."

Emma smiled. He seemed like he had thought this through, and she realized he had probably been trying to work up the courage to ask her out first.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied. She felt her smile widen as she saw the look of happy relief cross his face. Before she could think too much about it, she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his beard.

"Goodnight, Killian," she said.

"Goodnight, Emma," he replied.

She tried not to look too smug about the awestruck look she saw his eyes when she pulled away and turned to open the door.

 

Emma returned to the club the following evening, Saturday, at nine-thirty. The weather had warmed up, so she paired a maroon, floral patterned dress with boots and a leather jacket.

She was nervous but excited. And she was doing her best to put work and Randy Marx out of her mind. She'd already begun to resign herself to the fact that she was going to have to pay the full bail and cash in his mother's collateral.  It sucked, but that's the way it worked out sometimes.

She'd arrived with enough time to watch a few performances and visit with Ruby. They chatted while Killian finished up some orders for the waitstaff.

"I'm so glad you guys are going out," Ruby told her sincerely. "He's a great guy, and I can tell he really likes you."

"I don't know what I did to earn that, but thanks," Emma replied, slightly embarrassed.

"You really don't, do you?" Ruby asked as she looked at Emma's face searchingly. "Anyway, I thought he'd never get over that nightmare breakup back in the UK."

"Do you know what happened?" Emma asked quietly, glancing up at Killian to make sure he was still occupied.

"Not all the details. And I should let him tell you, anyway. I _can_ say that Killian was involved with a woman who wasn't who she said she was. She turned out to be married, but it was more complicated than that, too. When her husband found out about them, it got really bad," Ruby replied cryptically.

Emma felt queasy all of a sudden. She had lied to Killian about what she did for a living and had never told him her real reason for being in the club. She was planning on telling him the truth tonight at dinner, but she mentally kicked herself for being evasive last night.

She sat at the bar stewing silently, trying to decide whether she should just pull him aside here and tell him the truth before they left.

A gentle touch to her hand broke her reverie. She looked up to see Killian smiling at her.

"I'm just going to grab my jacket, love," he said. "Then we can be off."

She nodded and got up from her seat. While she waited for him to return, a woman's loud laughter behind her caught her attention. She turned around to find Zelena, still on duty, sitting at a table near the bar with none other than Randy Marx. They were flirting and laughing like old friends.

"Seriously?" Emma said out loud. She couldn't believe her luck. Whether it was good or bad, she wasn't sure.

One one hand, this was going to expose her true reason for coming to the club. On the other, if she brought in Marx, his poor mom could keep her car and her wedding ring.

Emma sighed and squared her shoulders. She reached into her bag and put her hand on the taser she always carried. Finally, she walked to Randy and Zelena's table.

"Randy Marx?" she said.

"Yeah?" he said absently, still looking at Zelena. Leisurely, he turned to look up at Emma, and a smile spread across his doughy face. "Do I know you, sweetheart?" he said, oozing what to him must have passed for charm.

"Nope," she replied curtly. "But your mom does. I'm her bail bondsperson, and you need to come with me."

Marx's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. He looked more amused than intimidated. That was his mistake. He was a bigger guy, maybe six foot, two-ten, but it was chubby weight, not muscle. She'd brought in bigger and stronger skips.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma noticed that Zelena had stood and was now staring daggers at her.

Marx leaned back in his chair. "I'll happily leave with you, baby, but I'm sure we can think of somewhere _fun_ to go. I've got cash to spend..."

Emma leaned down to look him in the face. "Hmm, you know I've never heard that offer before," she said with feigned sweetness and naivete. She stood tall again and gripped her taser more tightly. "Stand up, asshole, you're coming with me."

Marx's pudgy face filled with determination and rage. Suddenly, he flipped the small table over in Emma's direction. Glasses and a candle shattered. His move was quick, but Emma had excellent reflexes. She jumped backwards so that the table missed her. Unfortunately, she slammed into another waitress who was carrying a tray of glasses, which went flying.

Marx was heading towards the door. Emma took off after him, knowing that if he beat her to the parking lot, she was in trouble. Before he reached the entrance, though, Marx ran straight into Killian, now wearing his black leather jacket.

Killian must have seen enough to know that this guy had gotten on Emma's bad side, because he roughly shoved Marx to the floor. Marx hit the ground hard and rolled on his side moaning about his back.

"Yeah, well, we could have done this the easy way," Emma said. She knelt beside him and slapped a cuff on his wrist. She pushed him to a sitting position and shoved her taser into his back roughly. "Now you're cuffed, and I've got 50,000 volts aimed at your back. How about you come with me?"

She roughly stood him up and turned him towards the door. Her heart was pounding. Killian was still standing there watching, and Ruby had come up beside him, her mouth agape.

"Emma, what is this?" Killian asked softly. "Are you a cop?"

She finally turned to look at him. "Killian I'm sorry. And, not exactly. This guy jumped bail. I'm bringing him in.  That's what I do, for a living."

"I see," was all Killian said, but she could see the understanding dawn. And the hurt. This was why she'd been in the club each night. It wasn't him. It wasn't the music. It was just her job.

Marx started to squirm, and Emma knew she had to go. She didn't know what to say anyway. The truth was that this was her life. It was full of lowlifes, threats, tasers, and broken things. She had been stupid to try to grasp for someone who had found his way out of the darkness the way that Killian had. She was still mired in it.

"I am really, really sorry," she said, looking from Killian to Ruby and back to Killian again. "I'll pay for the damages," she added stupidly. Then she pushed Marx out the door.

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really sorry for the delay on this final chapter. I just needed a little push!

Emma sat alone at her tiny kitchen table. A bag of frozen peas rested on the knuckles of her right hand, numbing the pain from the fresh bruises there. In her left hand, she held an envelope on which was written the name "Ruby Lucas" and the address of the karaoke club that Ruby owned. 

It was Tuesday afternoon, almost three days since she had last set foot in A Smile and a Song. Three days since she had seen or spoken to Killian Jones.

She had kept busy. After processing Marx late Saturday night, she'd hoped to sleep away all of Sunday, a proven Emma Swan tactic for ignoring feelings. Sleep had come fitfully, though, as too many messy, conflicting thoughts and regrets cluttered her brain.

Work was another time tested distraction, so she spent Monday tracking, and today catching, another outstanding skip. This one had spat in her face before trying to shove her aside so he could run, but she'd caught him about the waist and tackled him to the sidewalk before he could. When he tried to turn and flip her, she punched him in the side of the head.

It had felt pretty damn good, if she was being honest. Emma would take that kind of adrenaline rush any day as long as it quieted the pain in her heart for a little while. 

Unfortunately, the price of that rush was a different kind of hurt, the kind that made her bruised and bloodied knuckles sear with agony. As she sat there numbing her hand, that other pesky pain woke back up in her heart. It stabbed at her insides like a dagger every time she looked at the envelope in her left hand.

Emma was embarrassed about what had happened with Marx. She knew that was absurd; _he_ was the criminal, after all! Still, she was ashamed that the darkness of her world had momentarily tainted the sanctuary Ruby had created. 

She was sick about having lied to Killian, especially now that she knew she wasn't the first woman to deceive him about who she really was. How could he want her now, when every encounter between them had been based on a lie?

So, Emma had written a check to Ruby for $200, which she hoped would be more than enough to cover the damages from her encounter with Marx in the club Saturday night. She had intended to enclose a cordial, business-like note apologizing for the trouble, drop the envelope in the mail, and put the ordeal, and Killian, behind her.

But she hadn't done that.

Because as much as she tried to tell herself that she barely knew Killian Jones, and that his loss would have no impact on her life, her heart just wasn't buying it. 

The truth was, she had been _inspired_ by Killian. Here was someone whose physical and emotional wounds ran deep, but who had been brave enough to put his pain out there for everyone to see. She thought about the way he joked about his missing hand the night they met. She could still _feel_ the hurt he laid bare in some of his performances. Maybe it was the purging of all that pain that allowed him to be so kind, so confident, and so hopeful.

She had started to open herself up to him, and it had felt right. She wondered if she had it in her to do it again. And if she did, whether he would even accept her. 

She looked at the envelope in her hand and then, shaking the bag of peas off her knuckles, touched her phone to check the time. She could drop by the club to give Ruby the check in person. Killian would be starting his shift soon, and if she went early enough they might have some time to talk.

But she didn't move. Her thoughts drifted back to the first, last, and only time she had truly opened her heart to a man. She had ended up in prison, taking the fall for his crime. Inside, she'd found out she was seven weeks pregnant. She miscarried at nine. She realized then that she was as alone as any person could possibly be. It felt like her destiny.

After that, she had constructed concrete walls around her heart, and they had protected her ever since. Why should she change now?

She sat there, paralyzed by indecision. She distracted herself by thumbing through her emails. She noticed she had a missed call and voicemail from a local number she didn't recognize. She put it on speaker and pressed 'play.'

"Emma? Hi, it's Killian."

The instant she heard his voice, her heart began to pound.

"Um, I got your number from your listing online, and I was hoping to chat with you...but this will do. Anyway, I hope everything worked out with your, er, prisoner the other night. I was hoping you might stop back in the club. If you haven't because you don't want to and aren't interested, then I completely understand, and I imagine you have already deleted this message."

He chuckled a little then paused for a long beat. Tears had sprung to Emma's eyes at the kindness and hesitance in his voice. How on earth did she deserve this? 

"But, if you haven't come back because you think Ruby and I might be angry or something preposterous like that, please know that it's not the case. We think we understand what happened, and we'd very much like to.. _.I'd_ very much like to see you again."

Another pause. Emma thought her heart might beat out of her chest.

"I've been perusing the song book," Killian's message continued cheerfully. "And I have some wonderful ideas about what we can sing next! Or we could cash in our rain check on that dinner, if you'd like.  Or not.  I understand.  All right. I suppose that's all. Take care, Emma." 

She sat staring at the phone in disbelief for just a moment before closing her eyes and letting a few tears squeeze out to roll down her cheeks and drop onto the table. Nobody had been that kind to her...not since Ingrid. 

If she had been looking for a sign telling her cowardly ass what to do, she couldn't think of a better one.  Suddenly, she let out a bark of laughter.   She laughed at the whole situation, at the memory of Killian knocking Marx's fat ass to the floor, and at her own navel-gazing and indecision. Then she sprinted to her room to change.

 

It was still early enough that A Smile and a Song was mostly empty when Emma arrived. Down on the stage, someone was warbling a song Emma didn't recognize, but most of the activity around the club was comprised of employees getting the place ready for the evening.

She spotted Killian as soon as she turned towards the bar. His back was to her, and he was deftly restocking bottles on the shelves. Her heart had been pounding since she'd heard his voice on her phone, and now it picked up even more speed. She tried to recall the exact words of his message. He wanted to see her again, right? To pick up where they left off? Or was he just being friendly and letting her know that he and Ruby weren't upset; that she didn't need to avoid the place?

She stood there shifting from heel to heel long enough that Killian finally turned and noticed her. 

"Hello, Swan," he called. His smile was immediate and bright.

Emma took a breath and returned his grin as best she could.

"Hey, Killian," she replied, walking up to the bar but not sitting. Her palms were sweating. She was bad at apologies; bad at relationships. He was about to get a stark reminder of those facts.

"You got my message?" he asked gently. 

"I did, thank you. Um, that was really nice," she replied.

"Of course. Did everything go well with your, erm, prisoner?"

"Skip."

"I thought his name was Randy," Killian asked, looking genuinely confused.

"Oh! No, it was. Is. We just call them skips. In my business." She took another steadying breath before she completely blew this. "Bail bonds, I mean. Skips are what we call people who jump bail. I'm really sorry that I didn't tell you my real job, or that I was here all those nights looking for Randy Marx."

"It's all right, Swan. Really. Would you sit? I can make you a drink."

"Maybe just a club soda," she replied. She felt like her apology had been inadequate, so she took a ragged breath and continued. "Look, I wanted to tell you the truth, and I was planning to at dinner Saturday. It's just that, I have to be careful. Sometimes the guys I'm looking for have relationships with the employees or owners of the places they hang out. I've been burned a few times where a friendly bartender or waiter has tipped off my skip."

"Ah," Killian replied. "Well, you were right to be suspicious on that front." Off her surprised look, he added, "Zelena. She and Marx had an on and off thing going. I'd seen him here from time to time. If Zelena knew who you were, she likely would have told him."

Emma nodded. She didn't know what to say next. He was being so understanding. She reached out to sip her club soda.

"Swan, what the bloody hell happened to your hand?" Killian gasped.

She looked down absently at her knuckles, where the broken skin was still red and raw.

"Oh, that," she replied. "I had to punch my latest skip in the head."

Killian nodded with understanding but still wore an expression that made him look like someone had just kicked a puppy in front of him. He gently took her hand and inspected her injury.

"Have you iced it?" he asked. "I can make you a bag of ice."

"I did. It's fine, really. Hazard of the job." 

He looked up from her hand to her face and studied her for a moment. Then he nodded again before raising her hand to his lips. He ghosted a kiss across her knuckles, barely touching them but sending a shiver down her spine with his breath.

"Why do you keep giving me these chances?" she blurted out.

Real smooth, she thought.

Killian blinked and gently released her hand.

"I mean," Emma continued. "I was kind of a jerk that first night I sang. And then you find out I was lying about why I was here. I just..." 

"You're suspicious of my motives."

"No! It's not that. I trust you. I'm just mostly really good at pushing people away. It's how I've always survived. I'm just trying to figure out why you won't let me. Push you." She stopped rambling and took a sip of her drink.

"I suppose I saw something in you. Something I recognized," he explained gently, and suddenly his usual cocky charm was replaced with shyness. "I could tell that you'd had too much loneliness in your life. That you needed someone to remind you that other people aren't hopeless; that not everyone will disappoint you. People did that for me, once, when I needed it."

"I see," Emma asked. Her heart sank with disappointment. He was being kind. He was just doing this to be nice, to pay forward the way Ruby and Will had stuck by him years ago.

"And," Killian continued, reaching up to scratch behind his ear, "because I quite fancy you. You're the most stunning woman I've ever seen. And you're brave, and tough, and just generally fascinating."

Emma let out a surprised burst of laughter.

"You're _laughing_ at me now?" Killian scolded with mock indignation. "That's not funny! I am laying my heart on the line."

"I'm not laughing at you," Emma replied, despite the fact that clearly, she was still laughing. "I like it! Thank you." 

"You're welcome."

"So, will you have dinner with me?" she asked, feeling her smile fade as the nervousness crept back in. "Tomorrow?" she added. "If you're still off Wednesdays?"

"I would be honored to have dinner with you tomorrow," he replied, his eyes sparking. "All I ask is that you let me plan the evening, since I had originally asked you out."

"Deal," she replied, rolling her eyes.  Her smile had returned, so big that her cheeks hurt. The feeling was new to her, but she thought she could get used it.

 

The first few weeks that Emma and Killian dated were equal parts thrilling and stressful for Emma. Being with him was wonderful, there was no question about it. She had judged him correctly, and if anything he was even more genuinely kind and funny than she'd hoped.

On their third date, in a corner booth at a comfortable and quiet pub in Brookline, Killian told her about Milah. He had left the navy (hugely disappointing Liam) and was working as a messenger and debt collector for what he believed to be a smallish illegal gambling organization in London. He met Milah in a bar and started sleeping with her, only to find out two months into the relationship that she was the wife of the head of the organization. 

Killian had never met Elijah Gold, but as he began asking around, he learned about the man's reach, his reputation, and the risks of crossing him. However, he had believed that he was falling in love with Milah and suggested to her that they leave the country together. She had agreed to the plan to his face, only to turn around and reveal their affair to her husband. It seemed she had only been using Killian in a scheme to anger Gold, who she claimed was verbally abusive and unfaithful.

Milah revealed all of this to Killian when she'd called to warn him that Gold would be coming after him. In a panic, Killian had called Liam in Portsmouth and told him the whole story. Liam had immediately suggested that Killian go to the police and make an offer to tell them what he knew about Gold's organization in exchange for witness protection. 

Killian had scoffed at this idea. He was a low level runner and collector. He didn't know nearly enough to be useful and couldn't stomach the idea of being stuck in some dingy council house in the middle of nowhere for "protection." He and Liam had fought bitterly on the phone, and Liam, in his stubbornness, had effectively told Killian that he was on his own.

 "The next time I saw Liam," Killian continued quietly, "was when I woke up in the hospital after getting jumped by some guys outside my flat. I had a concussion, broken ribs, and my hand was gone." 

"Jesus," Emma couldn't help but breathe. She ached for him. The horror of waking up to that...

"It was bad," Killian agreed. "I kind of lost it. Thought my life was over. And Liam...perhaps he felt guilty that he hadn't intervened more, but he actually seemed  _angry_ with me."

"Oh Killian," Emma said. She didn't know what else to say. She'd never been good at confronting her own pain, and she'd never been in a position to have to deal with someone else's.

Her instincts served her well, though. She reached over and grabbed his hand, and he clutched hers in return. He looked up at her with eyes that were present and full of affection. This was okay, they said. He was going to be able to get through this story. 

"We really fell out," Killian went on. "Liam came to see me a couple more times in hospital, but I barely spoke to him. After a few visits like that, it was like we couldn't stomach the sight of each other. After he drove me home and made sure I had a prescription for pain pills, he went back to Portsmouth, and our interactions just sort of trailed off. I didn't even know it was possible to feel that alone."

Emma nodded. Tears had sprung to her eyes at his words. Suddenly, she was back in the prison hospital in Tucson just after she lost the baby. She hadn't told him about that yet, but she would. She gripped his hand tighter and met his eyes, willing him to see that she understood. That she knew exactly how he'd felt. Based on the small, sad smile that graced his, lips, she believed that he did understand.

The rest of Killian's story took a happier and more familiar turn. Will was an old school and football mate who had moved to America. After a few too many beers one night, Killian had gotten the courage (and in hindsight, brilliant) idea to message him on Facebook, asking how he was and (badly) recounting some silly memory from their school days. Will had heard what had happened to Killian, and he was happy to get back in touch with his old friend, eventually suggesting that Killian come see him in Boston. 

The fresh start had been good for Killian. Will vouched for him with Ruby, and she gave Killian a chance and a job. 

"And then you gave _me_ a chance," Emma finished, squeezing his hand once more.

"Please," Killian scoffed. "You are way out of my league. Do you see the way people look at us when we go places, wondering how the gimp snagged a fashion model?"

 Emma had just taken a sip of her beer, and she just barely held back on showering Killian with it as she snorted with laughter.

"Um, that's not how people look at you, and you know it."

"Please, it bloody well is how they look at me when they see me with you." He paused and looked down that their joined hands before meeting her eyes again. "I mean it, Emma. I feel very lucky, very grateful to be with you. I hope that you know that." 

Emma had no response to that, no words she could say that would explain how strange it was to be wanted at all, let alone to have someone be grateful for her. 

So instead of trying to find impossible words, she kissed him, and she felt the smile on his lips the moment she pressed against them.

  

She and Killian saw each other a lot in those first few weeks. She came into the club when she didn't have a stakeout. On his days off, she'd cut out of work early and they'd do something stupid and touristy that neither of them had done before, like visit the USS Constitution or walk along the Freedom Trail.

They usually ended their nights outside the door of her apartment, engaging in lusty makeout sessions like teenagers. Some nights, Emma would try to physically drag Killian inside, but he kept insisting that it was too soon.

As much as it frustrated her, Emma understood his reasons. He knew her well enough to know that he stood a better chance of keeping her trust if they waited until all the big secrets had been revealed. That if they shared the intimacy of spending the night too soon, she might suddenly panic that the things she had yet to tell him would be too much for him. That her secret scars would make her unlovable. As much as he could try to tell her that the idea was impossible, he knew that his best chance was to show her. And that meant waiting.

Adjusting to being a relationship wasn't always easy for Emma. Decades of being disappointed by people had conditioned her to assume that everything was about to come crashing down around her at the first sign of trouble.

A month into the relationship, their schedules conspired to keep them apart, and seeds of doubt began to take root in Emma's mind.

She was unusually busy at work the same week that Killian had taken on extra shifts to cover for Will, who had gone back to the UK for a visit. For most people, work would have kept their minds busy and focused on not thinking about how much they missed their boyfriend, but Emma's work involved a lot of sitting and waiting with nothing to do _but_ think. 

They talked and texted when they could, but Killian was typically tending a busy bar while Emma was sitting in her car and actually had time to text.  After a while, she stopped bothering. By the second half of the week, their communications had tailed off to a couple of check-in texts a day. 

On Thursday, Killian texted Emma to see if she could come by the bar that evening or the following one. Emma replied with a "No on tonight" and an "It depends on how tonight goes" regarding Friday.

He didn't answer right away, and she thought about cracking a joke or adding something sweet and hopeful like she'd try or she missed him. But everything she thought of sounded cheesy or too needy and vulnerable in her head. So she didn't say anything else, and he simply texted back "OK." 

It was then that Emma let herself start to wonder whether he was losing interest. That maybe he finally realized that she wasn't worth the effort. She was closed off and prickly. He had dozens of women flirting with him on a nightly basis; surely there was someone beautiful who was more fun and just _easier_ than her.

Her skip didn't show on Thursday, so she was back in her car on a dark street in Revere on Friday night, watching an old triple decker in the hopes that he might appear. Her heart felt heavy as she sat and waited. The loneliness of the week and her worries about Killian were dragging her down. She felt like she needed to do something to let him know she still wanted this, wanted him, but she felt paralyzed.

After three depressing hours sitting there, she got an incoming Facetime message. From Killian.

She couldn't help but smile tentatively as she answered.

"Swan, love, I know you're busy, but if there's any way you can get here, you really should."

He was standing at the bar with his back to the rest of the club, including the stage. She could hear what sounded like an _extremely_ emotional performance going on. 'I Will Always Love You' maybe? It was hard to tell from the muffled wailing that was coming from her phone.

"Okay, I'll bite. What's going on?" Emma replied, feeling her smile broaden. Even on the small screen, she could see that Killian's eyes were twinkling and hopeful, and _damn,_ she was really glad to see his face. 

"Well, Will returned today and came into the club even though he's still technically off. Apparently, he ran into his ex-girlfriend back home and decided he's still in love with her. Sadly, it turns out that the bird is getting married this summer, so he's quite despondent. And he came here to get drunk and attempt to sing every sad love song in the book."

"Oh my gosh, is Ruby going to drag him off the stage?" 

"She has tried a couple of times, but the crowd is strangely enraptured by him. Listen." 

He held up his phone so that she could see Will down on stage, bowing dramatically as the crowd whistled.

"I know you're busy, Swan, but if you do happen to catch your skip early, it would be great fun if you could come by tonight," he added, holding the phone back up to his face. She saw the sweet sincerity there, and the hope, and she made a decision.

 "You know what?" she said. "I think I got a bad tip on where this guy has been staying, anyway. I'm going to bag it for tonight. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

 His face positively lit up. "Excellent, Swan. See you soon!"

She made it to the club just in time to catch Will blubbering his way through 'All by Myself.' Killian came out from behind the bar to greet her, giving her a quick peck on the lips before they turned back to watch their friend lay his heart bare for all to see.

Killian led Emma over to sit at the bar and went behind it to get her a drink. While he worked, they laughed and wondered whether Will would simply sing until he passed out.

Emma suddenly realized that she was having a great time. She felt relaxed and happy. She was in a  _relationship_. That's what this was, right? They could go a couple of days without seeing each other and pick up right where they had left off. She couldn't believe that earlier today she'd been doubting it. 

The bar was slow for a few minutes, and Killian must have noticed her pensive expression. 

"Everything all right, love?" he asked, leaning on the bar in front of her.

She shook herself out of her thoughtful daze. "Yeah," she said. "I'm great. I'm just...I'm sorry I didn't call more this week and that we haven't seen each other."

He shook his head quickly and grabbed her hand. "No apologies necessary, Swan. I've been here just about every waking hour, and I can't ask you to hang out in the club all the time. Although, I was starting to miss you quite desperately. I'm grateful to our drunk, heartbroken friend down there for giving me an excuse to call and beg you to leave work early."

Emma smiled even as she felt herself blush. She hadn't missed the part where he said he'd missed her desperately. She felt like she needed to reciprocate and be honest with him. "I missed you too!" she blurted out. "Like, a lot. I was starting to get worried that maybe..." she trailed off, unable to put her fears into words. 

"No!" Killian protested, understanding without needing her to say it . "Not at all. I would never. I mean, I really want to keep this going...I just, I don't ever want to pressure you, or pester you. Whenever you need space, you just have to ask."

"Good," she replied firmly, squeezing his hand. "And I will tell you if it's too much, or I need more space. But right now, I definitely don't. I need a lot _less_ space, actually."

His eyes positively sparkled with delight and mischief. "Is that an invitation?" he asked, cocking his eyebrow.

"Maybe," she replied teasingly. 

He grinned and leaned all the way across the bar to capture her lips. She didn't care that they were in public; she felt at home in the club anyway, so she gave into it. She parted her lips for him and gasped as his tongue gently touched hers, then she smiled as she pulled back a little and nipped at his bottom lip.

"Um, guys?" Ruby's voice cut through the din of the club as she approached the bar. "I don't mind the PDA, but maybe you could bring some of that chemistry down to the stage? Will's schtick is wearing thin." 

Emma and Killian pulled apart and turned their attention to the stage. Will was actually sitting down now, doing some kind of spoken word version of 'To Make You Feel My Love.' He punctuated every line with a loud sniff. Henry was looking up at the bar pleadingly.

"Ah, perhaps we should go get him now," Killian suggested.  
  
"Perhaps," Ruby agreed sternly. Her expression turned sweet and innocent as she looked at Emma, "And maybe the two of you could do something to remind the crowd how it's done?" She batted her lashes. 

"I'm game if Killian is," Emma replied. Suddenly, she felt like singing.

 "Of course, darling!" he said. "I have a karaoke classic in mind."

 The three of them managed to coax Will off the stage to a final round of applause from the now weary crowd.

Emma chuckled as Killian told Henry the song.

"You know that one, right, love?" Killian said, turning to her. 

"I do! It's pretty cheesy though," she replied, looking at him skeptically. 

"Nonsense! It's a classic."

They headed to the stage and grabbed the mics. The crowd greeted them warmly, finally happy for a reprieve from Will's blubbering.

The upbeat music started, and Killian bopped along with his shoulders.

Emma rolled her eyes and muttered, "Dork!" 

He just laughed and started to sing.

 

_Baby when I met you there was peace unknown_

_I set out to get you with a fine tooth comb_

_I was soft inside, there was something going on_

 

She joined him for the second verse, knowing she was grinning like a fool.

 

_You do something to me that I can't explain_

_Hold me closer and I feel no pain_

_Every beat of my heart_

_We got somethin' going on_

 

_Tender love is blind_

_It requires a dedication_

_All this love we feel_

_Needs no conversation_

 

_We ride it together, ah ah_

_Making love with each other, ah ah_

_  
Islands in the Stream_

_That is what we are_

_No one in between_

_How can we be wrong?_

_  
Sail away with me_

_To another world_

_And we rely on each other, ah ah_

_From one lover to another, ah ah_

 

At the end, Emma grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled Killian into a kiss. Because she wanted to, and who the hell cared? As they pulled apart and turned to bow to the cheering crowd, she noticed that Killian's cheeks and ears were bright pink. Emma's heart was full. She had never understood the sentiment behind corny love songs like the one they had just sung, or the ones Will had been butchering all night.

Until now. Now she got it. 

 

That night, Killian relented when she took his hand and gently pulled him into her apartment after whispering that she had some things she needed to tell him.

It was easier than she'd expected. He listened calmly, but small movements in the muscles in his jaw and around his eyes betrayed his shock and anger as she explained how Neal had set her up with the stolen watches when she was eighteen.

Her voice began to break as she told the tell the tale of how she woke up in her cell one night cramping and bleeding heavily. It had only been a couple weeks since she'd realized she was pregnant. She didn't need to explain much after that.

The quiet rage that had been brewing in his eyes turned to pure sympathetic despair, and all he could say was "Oh, Emma," in a broken voice. She cried, then, and he wrapped her in his arms. She let him pull her legs across his lap, and she relaxed into him, steadying her breathing as she leaned her head on his shoulder and wiped the last of her tears on his shirt.

"Sorry," she said with a sniffle, after some time had passed.

He chuckled and nuzzled her forehead affectionately. "By all means, love, use me as a handkerchief any time."

She snorted with laughter before she could stop herself.

"Oh, I see you're taking that quite literally," he chided.

More tears sprung to her eyes, but this time they were tears of relief. Her secrets were out, and so were his. And they were still Killian and Emma. Nothing had been broken.

She blinked and sat up straighter in his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and looked into his eyes, willing him to see the clarity she felt. She began to gently run her fingers through the soft hair at the back of his neck.

"Stay tonight," she said.

"Emma," he replied hesitantly, as she knew that he would.

She shook her head. "Don't 'Emma' me. I want this. You want this. Just _stay_."

When he didn't reply right away, she took the opportunity to kiss him, slowly and gently. He was tense at first, but she felt him relax quickly. She deepened the kiss, and he opened to her. The sound he made when she slid her tongue along his shot straight to her core. Feeling increasing urgency to be touching as much of him as possible, she turned so that she was straddling him on the couch.

"Emma," he breathed, pulling back a little and looking up at her. He tucked some stray hair behind her ear. He looked wrecked and desperate, but Emma understood that he still had to know that she was certain. 

She put her hands on the sides of his face and willed him to see the clarity in her gaze. "Stay," she ordered. 

"As you wish," he replied.

In the morning, she was delighted to learn that he sang in the shower. When he invited her to join him for a reprise of their duet from the night before, she was happy to oblige.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally, we get the song that inspired the title of the story. Thank you so, so much for reading!!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! Hope you guys like this! I should be able to update at least weekly. 
> 
> So the title references two things:
> 
> 1) One of my very favorite scenes on "The Office," which involves two characters singing karaoke to this song.
> 
> 2) Josh's social media response to finding out that Colin had been cast in the upcoming Dolly Parton anthology on Netflix.


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